Lose Yourself
'Lose Yourself is a canon one shot for Winterwhisper's The ThunderClan Eight. ' Note: aren't my references on point?? Also, this isn't too good, sorry. The One-Shot LOSE YOURSELF BY MISTPAW A CANON TTE ONE-SHOT Fighting does things to you. Sure, it gives you wounds, but those heal over time. Or do they? No. They're there, mentally. Slowly you don't feel like you're you anymore. You don't even know why you do fight. But you do it anyway. It's almost feels right at that point, and yet it still feels even more wrong than when you began. I never fought until I was nine moons old. Not in a battle. I was meant to far before that, but I wouldn't. I told them I was sure my mother didn't leave me as a kit with them to grow up as a barbaric trooper. Except not even a trooper, because these rogues didn't have any order. So, the proper word would be more like outlaw, but that wasn't right either, because I wasn't an outlaw. But even though I had the first nine moons of my life without ever drawing another's blood, somehow I still ended up like this. Maybe it was just living with the rogues, or maybe it was just me. It doesn't matter, because I can't change it. Once you're there, there's no such thing as "back". /./ (Ten moon old Bear.) "Why do I have to?" "We took you in," Dew snarls back to me, his fang-like teeth showing. "Now you fight, and there won't be a problem." A few fox lengths away, Lion smiles maliciously and adds, "If you don't. . . you don't even want to know." I tense instinctively, my pelt burning with hatred for Lion. "No! I'm not fighting!" There's a pause while all the rogues practicing battle and eating watch. I see a silvery one whisper to a mangy brown she-cat. Probably about me, the little "cowardly rebel". I don't know about cowardly, but I like rebel. Even though it makes no sense, cowardly rebel. "Enough is enough," Calls Moon, the leader of the rogues. Her beady black eyes glitter. "Bear, you're coming. And you'll fight." I can hear her tone. Kill, or be killed, it says, clear as day. I don't nod, but I don't defy her. Some things are better to not respond to. The ability to ignore is one of my most valued ones. It comes in handy around bloodthirsty cats. /./ Two moons later, fighting is simple. It's so natural. So cruelly enjoyable. But with it, it's like losing me. I don't know who I am anymore. Just a fighter, who tears pelts and thinks nothing about it. One day, Moon declares we're fighting a Clan. Supposedly they actually know how to fight, so it will be a challenge. Ha. Nothing here is a challenge. Because challenge is a feeling. There's no emotion here. . . not even hate. Well, lingering regret is here. But nobody is conscious of it. So all in all this battle will be nothing new. Just a few scratches on us, maybe one who bleeds to death. But it doesn't matter. They bleed to death all the time. We're dying all the time from sickness, too. Nobody here cures it. So we deal with it, unlike other soft cats. /./ (Spook's PoV, at time before Clan battle) I am Spook. My name is quite idiotic. When I joined the rogues, I was offered to change it. I declined, because I had a feeling my life was going to change, and that was one part I wanted to keep. To remind me of my kithood. Every cat has a purpose to fight with these rogues. Eventually it feels like we don't, like we just fight for the sake of fighting. But when I joined, my reason was belong. Belonging is the one thing most cats take for granted. Belonging to a group, or family. I didn't. When they asked me to join, I was certain I'd belong somewhere. Finally. That I'd be needed. Wrong. Every cat here is perfectly disposable. We have plenty of backups. If you lose someone, no grief. Just back to fighting our never-ending battle. Never-ending is not literal, of course. But almost is. Anyway, nobody challenges me here, as I'm second only to Moon. So while I'm not needed, and don't really belong, I'm here. I went from innocent kit to bloodthirsty cat. But I don't care. I'm still happy. I'm happier when we leave to fight this Clan. I haven't seen dead bodies in a while, and I'm ready. /./ (BEAR PoV, mid-battle) I step away from the chaotic clump of writhing bodies and fighting cats, my chest heaving. I see Moon shoot me an angry glare, but I ignore it. After I catch my breath, I hurl myself at a grey patched white tom. He yelps in surprise, then rears. Battle's on. We tussle for a few minutes. Then Spook, covered in scarlet red blood, throws himself in too. The tom is overpowered. After just a minute, we've punctured his stomach. He lies on the ground, bleeding heavily. Rogues watch coldly, the Clan with worry. "No. . ." The tom whispers dryly. "Rosepetal, Ros-" I remember young me then. Before I fought battles. Then I wouldn't have left a cat like this. So I lean down and perform a killing bite, directly to his neck. Then I turn away slowly, shooting a glance at the Clanmates rushing to his side, and follow my fellow rogues. We were defeated. But even so, the Clans will remember us. We killed. We left our mark. With all luck, we'll be back. /./ (A MOON LATER, SPOOK POV) "Yes," Moon growls, a sinister smile spreading across her silver face. "Spook, let's plan." I nod, then whisper, "Our next attack. It should be. . . ." "On the Clan?" Her claws slide out, catching the moonlight with a glint. I nod. "That wasn't the last of us. We need payback." Moon chuckles. "I agree." We rogues never lose. There's only win, or die. As I huddle with Moon in hushed whispers, the thought running through my head is: This will be a win. Category:One-Shot Category:Completed Fanfiction Category:The Stories of Eight Universe Category:Fanfiction